


The Effects of Sacrifice

by lokit5083



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, before the fic starts, hating and then crying is my favorite trope bye, its sad, this was for rin and cass, wanda dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 19:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7905433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokit5083/pseuds/lokit5083
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda sacrifices herself to save Vision, and Pietro isn’t happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Effects of Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Serbian is used in place of Sokovian.  
> Копиле = Bastard  
> Убица = Murderer

   He hadn’t handled Wanda’s death well.

     He hadn’t been eating more than a few bites at a time, and he couldn’t sleep without seeing her final moments again and again. In short, he’d stopped being able to function. But worse, Vision _hadn’t_. Vision, who she’d  _died_  for, could carry on. He was mourning, too, Pietro knew, and he knew the sense of stability he gave off was no more than a facade, but he wished he’d drop it. He wished he’d stop trying to help, like there was still any **good** he could bring to Pietro’s life. 

     But Vision kept  _trying_. He tried and he tried, and it only made Pietro’s suffering worse. She _died_ for Vision, and he told Pietro, day after day, that he would see sun again one day. After his sister **DIED** , he had the **audacity** to claim he’d be _okay_. 

     But Pietro _tried_ to be civil. He knew Wanda would want him to get along with her Vision, and he’d always done everything in his power to make Wanda happy

     He _tried_.

     Oh, how he tried. 

     Sometimes, when he was too tired to argue, he’d even do what the Vision asked of him. _Come down for breakfast. At least sit with the rest of us_ , he asked one morning. Pietro agreed, though he’d turned down the same request many times before. Maybe it was worth a try. Maybe a change would get him out of this darkness. 

     So down the stairs he went, hair a mess and shoulders slouched. The bags under his eyes were visible, he knew, but the others were sensible enough to keep quiet. They all had gone through their own personal hells, and knew not to comment on the clear exhaustion or the fact that he hadn’t bothered to change from his pajamas. 

     They were happy enough just to see him. 

     Good mornings were said, but there was no special treatment beside a pat on the back from the Captain, but that was characteristic enough of him to be something on any day. For a moment, Pietro thought himself free from Vision’s attention, but then, from behind him, came, in that agonizingly cheerful voice, “Good morning, Pietro.” 

     He knew he shouldn’t ignore him, yet he did anyway. He’d done what he asked, and that would have to be enough for him. To Pietro’s relief, the android seemed content with his presence and said no more, though he knew Vision wouldn’t yet give up completely.

     They all sat together for meals; something the Captain insisted on. It was, at that moment, one of the last things Pietro wanted to do, but he joined them anyway. There were glances passed between the others, each asking the silent question of what to do with him. Even though he sat with his head down as his body rested slouched against the back of the chair, he could sense it.

     Of course, they’d gone through something similar when Pietro died, but Wanda was…had been…different from Pietro. Where she held sadness, he held rage. None of the others saw him shed a tear, but they saw the ferocity with which he attacked the equipment in the gym. None of them wanted to risk that anger being turned on them. Pietro owed nothing to these people, and he would feel no remorse, should his anger take him too far.

     So instead, the room filled with the sound of chatter and silverware as each Avenger did their best to fill the silence.

     All of them except Pietro.

     Though the others mostly avoided bothering him, they didn’t ignore him. He was served as the others were, getting the same breakfast in hopes that he would eat. They knew he wouldn’t, but they still tried. That’s what team members were for, after all. They did their best to carry you while you were down.

     Sometimes, though, there were those who did more than just carry. They _pushed_ and they _prodded_ in their journey to do good, and they only succeeded in making things worse.

     “Eat, Pietro,” came Vision’s voice from where he, much to Pietro’s dismay, sat next to him. He respected Pietro’s wishes for distance, but at the same time he felt the need to watch over him like a _hawk_. “She’d want you to.”

     Those words echoed in Pietro’s head as he lifted his eyes from the still untouched plate in front of him. He could hear the other Avengers falling quieter, their eyes watching him closely. “She’d…want me to?” he asked, slowly pushing his chair from the table, “ _You_ do not get to tell me what she wants.”

     The very way in which he moved was enough to show his inner rage. Each move was slow and calculated, like a predator preparing to pounce. He stood, eyes remaining locked on the synthezoid’s. There was calm, for a moment, where Pietro only stood. But then he pounced.

     Faster than the others could see, Pietro reached out, a hand tightly wrapping around Vision’s neck. With a tug, Pietro lifted the other to his feet, his refusal to fight back only serving to increase the speedster’s anger. He just let Pietro lift him, doing nothing to escape from the other’s grasp.

     "Копиле[!](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2Fm%2Ftranslate%23en%2Fsr%2FBastard%21&t=YTVmOWFiMmVhZTM1YmI2ZGU4MDdkYTJmNTRjMWU2YjgxMmUzNWM2MCxNMVhpa3lYRQ%3D%3D)“ The word came harsh and fast in his native language. In times of pure emotion, he didn’t bother to translate. It was work he wasn’t willing to put in, and he knew Vision understood Sokovian, anyway. “You do not say what she would want!”

     The others fell silent, but none of them dared intervene. They knew Vision would not be hurt, and it was time for Pietro to be able to release the pent-up rage he held within him. They filtered out of the room, letting him handle the issue on his own. When the time came to stop, Vision would stop him if Pietro would not stop himself.

     “You killed her!” Pietro yelled, letting go of Vision’s throat only to send a fist into his stomach. The punch didn’t hurt the other, he knew, instead only managed to send a sharp pain through Pietro’s hand, but it still lifted some of his anger. “She is dead because of you!” Another punch was sent into Vision’s gut, and more pain spread to Pietro’s arm. Still, he did not stop.

     “She trusted you!” Pietro pulled back, now, sending a punch upwards to connect with the synthezoid’s chin. Vision staggered, but otherwise he remained still. “Убица!”

     "Убица!“ Another punch to the gut. "You should have stopped her!”

     "You could have stopped her!“ Another punch is thrown, but it’s strength was lacking. The rage had left the speedster, leaving his shoulders slumped and his head bowed. "You could have saved her.”

     He was shaking, now, with silent tears. Vision stood, for a moment, only watching the boy. That really was all he was, after all. He was just a boy, ripped from his family and his home far too soon.

     Carefully, Vision took a step forward  to gently wrap his arms around the other, pulling him into a hug. Pietro stiffened, but he didn’t pull away. He just remained otherwise still as he finally succumbed to the sadness.

     "I’m sorry, Pietro,“ Vision said softly, "I’m _sorry_.”

     Pietro knew, deep down, that this wasn’t Vision’s fault; that Wanda had made the choice on her own, but it helped to have somewhere to direct his anger. It wouldn’t fix it, nothing would, but it _helped_.

     And in this hell Pietro had found himself in since he was ten years old, something, _anything_ , to help soothe the pain was a blessing.


End file.
